Why Many Women Resort to ‘Menopause Masking’—and the Hidden Consequences I Learned about Firsthand

What began as a personal moment unexpectedly triggered a nationwide discussion. I was flooded with kindness and support — close to 400 comments on LinkedIn, dozens of private messages, and hundreds more responses beneath a widely shared news article. Many messages followed a similar theme: people called me “brave” for speaking openly, or thanked me for helping to normalise experiences like brain fog.

At the time, I didn’t feel especially brave — or even particularly normal. But the reaction made one thing painfully clear: there is still deep shame and stigma surrounding the symptoms of perimenopause and menopause, despite the fact that almost half the population will experience it at some point.

High-profile figures such as Oprah Winfrey, Halle Berry, Davina McCall and Lorraine Kelly have spoken publicly about menopause and its impact, while Gwyneth Paltrow once called for the topic to be “rebranded.” Awareness has improved, and some practical changes have followed. Menopause screening is set to be included in routine health checks for women over 40 in England, and a new Employment Relations Bill will require UK companies with 250 or more staff to introduce menopause action plans from April 2027, with voluntary adoption beginning earlier.

Yet progress remains uneven. A survey of around 1,600 women published by University College London found that more than three-quarters felt poorly informed about menopause. Many also reported that stigma persists, making it difficult to speak openly.

One woman in her 60s, a social policy academic, told me she jokes about her “menopausal moments” among female colleagues, but still finds it embarrassing — particularly when she forgets specialist terminology in her field.

Hiding symptoms, often referred to as menopause masking, comes at a cost. GP and menopause specialist Fionnuala Barton explains that the mental and emotional energy spent compensating for symptoms can further drain reserves and lower resilience, increasing the risk of burnout. This raises an important question: can masking itself harm women’s wellbeing?

The NHS recognises 34 possible menopause symptoms, many of which can be debilitating. One woman who contacted me described how reduced oestrogen led to vaginal dryness so severe that walking became painful. Another said she developed bladder weakness almost overnight, making office work stressful and pushing her towards home working. Others said brain fog left them withdrawing from social situations because following conversations felt impossible.

Women shared countless coping strategies — desk fans to manage hot flushes, detailed notes to counter memory lapses, and creative workarounds to stay productive. These stories highlight remarkable resilience, but they also reveal how much effort goes into simply functioning.

Journalist and author Fiona Clark says many women experience a journey through confusion, denial, grief and acceptance when menopause symptoms begin. But she warns that masking can delay seeking help, prolonging unnecessary struggle.

The workplace can be particularly challenging. Around four million women aged 45 to 55 are currently employed in the UK — the age range when menopause is most common. Professor Jo Brewis of The Open University explains that masking symptoms at work creates what economists call “intensive margin costs,” meaning extra hidden labour and emotional strain.

Some women reduce their visibility at work, avoid promotions, or step into lower-paid roles to cope. Others work longer hours to compensate for fatigue or lapses in concentration. Research from The Fawcett Society found that one in ten women aged 40 to 55 left a job because of menopause-related symptoms.

Not all experiences are negative, and cultural attitudes play a powerful role. In Japan, menopause is known as “konenki,” a word associated with renewal and energy, often described as a “second spring.” Anthropologist Dr Megan Arnot notes that while stigma still exists in many countries, some cultures frame menopause as a transition into wisdom, leadership and respect. This is true in several Indigenous communities, including Native American, Mayan and Indigenous Australian cultures, where postmenopausal women often gain influence as educators and guides.

Anthropology professor Melissa Melby argues that Western narratives focus almost exclusively on problems. Women are typically asked about symptoms and difficulties, rarely about positive changes. This shapes expectations and perceptions. Her time working in Japan left her feeling hopeful about later life stages.

Personally, I’m not fully there yet — and if my husband suggested optimism at the wrong moment, it might not go well for him. But perhaps there is value in stepping back from symptom checklists and considering the wider picture.

Menopause has also become a booming industry, with supplements, apps, therapies and coaching services filling social media feeds. The global menopause market was valued at over $17bn in 2024 and is expected to exceed $24bn by 2030. Still, products alone are rarely enough.

In workplaces, Brewis stresses the need for trained managers who can have sensitive conversations and offer tailored adjustments. Clear policies recognising menopause as a legitimate reason for absence are also crucial. While some women will never want to disclose their menopausal status — and that choice must be respected — effective initiatives can reduce stigma and make openness safer.

Ultimately, mindset matters. Anthropologist Margaret Mead once spoke of “post-menopausal zest,” saying more than 70 years ago that few forces are as powerful as a woman in this stage of life.

For now, that idea is something many of us cling to. I’m trying to embrace it myself — alongside HRT — and to channel a little “konenki” where I can.

What the response to my own experience taught me most, though, is something even more reassuring: I am far from alone.